


Interlude - Summer of '09

by AndiiErestor



Series: Different Time, Different Place [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndiiErestor/pseuds/AndiiErestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Different Time, Different Place" [Interlude I] - can be read alone</p><p> </p><p>Some changes should be expected to happen over time. Come the end of the mandatory weapons-training issued for all elves having reached adulthood, Erestor and Glorfindel sit for a moment and speak of summer and what is to come of the two of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude - Summer of '09

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
> 
> A/N: A short interlude for the Different Time, Different Place Series. Takes place between “Different Time” and “Different Place.” I hope this might answer a few questions for the inevitable gap that will come between the two above-mentioned titles.

As it would turn out, Sadron had been right. I was quite adept with twin blades due to my small size combined with my speed and agility. This of course, pleased the Glorfindel very much. Despite that, I was not one to favour conflict, and so I chose to master the bow – though some would say I was wasting my talents.

Our practice raged on for several weeks, as we had all first assumed. However, while I found that I greatly missed working in the library, surrounded by books in peaceful quietude, it soon came to my attention that I did not mind the daily practices nearly as much as I had first thought. Although, I’m sure that has something to do with the Great Golden Oaf – or írima laurëala as I’d begun to call him.

While I had a difficult time maintaining my composure in the beginning – really I think anyone would if they were forced to witness such a beautiful specimen of an elf flouncing about shirtless and sweaty for most of a day – I slowly grew accustomed to the sight. That is not to say that I began to find him unappealing, heavens no! I simply mean, that in an effort to remain focused on my “studies” I found the most effective way to regain my concentration was simply to give as good as I got.

No, that does not mean I began to remove my shirt. Goodness, I couldn’t scare a mouse with the lousy amount of muscles on my being – though by the end of it, I’d grown noticeably. However, I did tease Glorfindel at _every_ possible opportunity.

He was kind. And gentle. And ever so caring. He gave no outward hints of any sort of preference towards me, though I believe that after our initial meeting, something definitely sparked between us. I went out of my way to ask him questions about certain activities we did on any given day, and to ask for extra – precise – information on… Anything that came to mind, really. It’s hard to say how he managed to do all this without tipping anyone off. Subtly is definitely _not_ one of his strong points.

I believe it may have been in his eyes – his beautiful, blue eyes – or the soft tone of his voice – rich as chocolate. His touch was soft when he would guide me into a motion with the blades I occasionally took up. He would stand front-to-back with me – pressed ever so close – when I would take what had quickly become my favourite bow. The goof would whisper in my ear so seriously about how to pull the string back and take a deep breath and _release_. And then? Then he would laugh. And laugh. Perhaps that was what kept the others off our backs, they couldn’t possibly take us seriously if _he_ could not. All the same, he had a manner with me that I did not see him use with my peers.

On the few days I could not think of any further questions to ask him about the day’s lessons, he would sometimes catch me before I departed and ask me to stay behind. Sometimes I would help him clean up – put targets away, roll the heavy bags and bales of hay used as obstacles back into the supply room, and take the makeshift dummies apart – and sometimes, he would simply offer me a skin of water while we talked about practice, or the evenings plans, or our plans for the next week, or our plans for the future. I say this, as I know, but if you were to ask me to clarify, my mind would be blissfully blank. I was simply much too happy during any and all of these occasions that most of the specifics simply floated away. All that was left was a hazy feeling of joy and comfort – despite being covered in dirt and sweat and grass.

As luck would have it, our training sessions came to an end near the coming of summer. My peers were elated at the chance to finally return to their studies of choice within the King’s library. And yet, as all rejoiced – even the warrior trainees, who were not pleased at having their own studies significantly slowed for our benefit – I found myself disheartened. Would I never see the Golden Oaf again? I’d so greatly enjoyed our afternoon chats. I’d even forgotten that I was, originally, a distraction and a nuisance.

And then, as per every day in the last three weeks, he came to me with a smile upon his lips. “Will you stay?” he asked. And of course, I nodded. His shy smile grew into the gorgeous grin I’d come to love.

We had no equipment to store that day, for it was simply a congratulatory speech he’d given, to all of us, for _surviving_ the joint-training venture. As such, we simply sat beneath one of the trees, sharing and enjoying the shade and each other’s company. We talked about seemingly everything, and yet nothing, and finally, he paused and turned to face me.

“Summer is coming soon,” he spoke with hesitation, which I recall finding rather strange, as there should be no confusion to the fact – after winter comes spring, and then summer – but I listened. “And with it, the King’s celebration.”

I nodded then – one of those slightly exaggerated nods where you suddenly come to a conclusion but do not have anything particular to say on the matter. “Indeed it is. It seems my grandfather can speak of naught else. He is quite hopeful for this summer’s harvest. I would like to help him if I’ve the opportunity between my own work.”

“Of course, that is very admirable of you,” Glorfindel smiled. It was a proud smile, not like one passed from a parent to a child, but more like that of a friend or a lover. It was the smile of someone who was genuinely pleased to know and be affiliated with a certain person, but not for any gain of a personal nature. I would say I was shocked to make the realisation – and to _believe_ it – but I’d come to see the expression on his face many times now, and always when talking to me. “However, I was hoping…”

His pause here made me curious. Would he ask me to further my training? Would he ask me to tend to _his_ fields instead? Did he even own any fields personally? Perhaps a garden… With lots of yellow flowers of all different sorts. And yet, as I lost myself to thoughts of what kind of garden Glorfindel may or may not keep, he found his courage to carry on.

“I was hoping,” he paused only to catch his breath this time, “that you would – that you might like to accompany m – to join me – to go with me to the festivities, one week from today?”

I couldn’t help it then, I giggled. Despite the obvious turmoil he felt at asking such a serious question – it served him right for laughing in my ear all those times... I nodded, however, all the while my shoulders trembled with the effort to contain my mirth.

“I would love you,” I finally said, and I froze. I heard the words spill forth from my lips, roll off my tongue, and yet, I was powerless to stop them. It was an honest mistake, it truly was – though it was no less true than what I’d intended to say.

Glorfindel stared at me in surprise, and colour drained from my face. I could feel it. I was mortified. Ai, to have admitted something so deep in such a careless manner, ashamed would not begin to describe how I felt. And then, he started laughing… Again. Yet there was something in his laugh that had me giggling at my own expense. It was not the harmful laugh I had been subject to in the past. It was sweet and joyful and it lifted my spirits to hear it. He laughed at the slip-up, at the simplicity of the mistake, and with all the happiness of someone to receive such a confession.

I corrected myself, finally, with a bashful smile and a look at my lightly shaking hands, and he leaned back against the tree. I watched him curiously, as he turned to sit on his side and held his arms out to me. I hesitated for but a moment before leaning into the embrace. He held me close, with one arm around my shoulders and my own wrapped around his waist. With the other, I held his free hand, tracing nonsensical shapes into his palm when the urge struck. My head I gently lay on his shoulder, with my face turned into his neck.

“I am glad,” he said softly, a mere breath in my hair, “I would hate to have been lonely on such a lovely evening when the darkness of the night sky seems to shine with the brightest of stars, and its depth could rival the silk of your hair.” As though to accentuate the point, he ran his fingers through my ebony tresses with a smile I felt as a curve of his lips against the top of my head.  “And… I love you as well,” he finally added, not as an after-thought, but as something that – already - no longer needed to be said, to be proven. I too, smiled then, and wiggled my hips down to fall into him at a more comfortable angle.

It is then that he would begin courting me as our people did, and still do: that day, in the shade, under the tallest of trees, in training field A3 of the city of Gondolin. In the following year, our love would blossom like a beautiful and graceful celandine in the early spring. And like every season, and like every flower, our love would have its time, for soon the sun would rise in the north, and the world we knew would be changed forevermore.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> írima laurëala (laurë ëala) – lovely golden spirit/being
> 
> \-----
> 
> A/N: Aha. I got you. Who am I kidding? I fooled myself. One day, I will learn not to place any expectations upon myself. One day. But it is not this day – apparently. This was not supposed to be more than 500 words.  
> Anyway, hopefully the quality remains, despite the quantity. So I hope you’ve enjoyed it, and if you have, let me know what you like best or least. Any kind of feedback is always good.  
> Join us Erestor next time for his thoughts on Glorfindel’s return.


End file.
